


recollect me, darling (raise me to your lips)

by Edgebug



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn Without Plot, handjobs, let's be real here that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edgebug/pseuds/Edgebug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Oswald just needs to feel safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	recollect me, darling (raise me to your lips)

**Author's Note:**

> Literally just like 1400 words of established relationship Bird Hair/Soft Policeman porn ficlet. Seriously just read the tags because this is exactly what it says on the tin. There is no redeeming value to this. I probably need to find religion and I am deeply, deeply sorry

Jim's been home for hours and he's sitting on the sofa when Oswald unlocks the front door and shuffles through, looking like the tail end of a long winter. He's not bleeding, but he looks rumpled and disheveled (his tie is long gone, his collar wrinkled, his jacket unbuttoned) and Jim wants to know what the hell happened. His boyfriend doesn't exactly have a solid schedule, but it's long-dark outside and he's home later than usual. "Hey," Jim greets him, moving to stand up--he puts aside his laptop and moves the paperwork he'd been filling out on his latest case.

"Stay put," Oswald says, holding up one hand as if to keep Jim in place. "Please stay right there. Right _exactly_ there."

Jim's brow furrows but he obeys. "You okay? You look like something's really shaken you up."

Oswald shakes his head and moves closer to Jim, his foot dragging a little worse than usual. "I'm fine. Bad day, that's all. I just..." He stops when his legs brush Jim's, and then he gets down on the damn _floor_ , shifting until he's comfortable there. He nudges Jim's knees apart, settles between them.

"Hey, wh--?"

Oswald shushes him, leaning in to rest his cheek against the inside of Jim's thigh, nuzzling gently there. His hands slide up Jim's legs to his zipper and Jim's breath catches in his throat. "Oswald, _whoah_ ," he says, reaching down to cup Oswald's cheek gently in his palm. They've had sex, they've been intimate, but not like this yet. He's never gotten on his knees for Jim. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"I really _just_ had a bad day. I'm not in danger, I mean, I was earlier, but not anymore--it's not anything like that, just--just one of those days." His eyes flick up to meet Jim's and Jim notices that he's shaking. "I want to do this. I want to suck you off, I want you, I want to do this for you, please, Jim. I'm good at it." He's got that terrifyingly earnest look on his face, the one that cuts Jim down to the bone.  "I like it," he says, voice dropping to a rasp, a purr. "Helps me calm down. I just need to calm down."

Jim's thumb strokes Oswald's cheek and Oswald's eyes flutter shut. "Yeah," Jim says, breathless and low, "yeah, okay. Whatever you need."

Oswald grins, looks _relieved,_ and his clever fingers pull down Jim's zipper, undo his buttons; he pulls down Jim's pants and underwear just far enough, and Jim's pretty sure he's been hard ever since Oswald got down on his knees. Oswald presses closer, humming contentedly as he leans in and presses slow, open-mouth kisses to the underside of Jim's cock. Jim gasps quietly, just a tiny intake of breath, his knees spreading reflexively wider to afford Oswald more room. Oswald's eyelashes are dark, feathery smudges and there's still the faintest of satisfied smiles on his lips even as they part against Jim's skin, and he is the most beautiful thing Jim has ever seen.

"God," Jim whispers, his hand still at Oswald's cheek. His fingertips slide to brush his jaw, his thumb stroking the corner of Oswald's lips.

Oswald pulls up just far enough to let Jim sink into his mouth. Jim's cock slides along his tongue and Oswald takes him to the damn root easy as pie before sliding up again, starting an easy, slow rhythm, rocking back and forth. "Oswald, fuck," Jim groans, and Oswald hums in reply, taking him all the way down again and _keeping_ him there; Jim can feel his throat working as he fucking swallows around his dick, slowly and deliberately, and Jim's mind goes blank.

God, Oswald wasn't kidding when he said he was good at this. Jim doesn't shove his hips up; doesn't fuck into Oswald's mouth like he has the urge to. This isn't about him, about his needs--this is about Oswald. Oswald's hand smooths low over Jim's stomach and Jim knows he can feel his muscles tensing, involuntary shivers as Oswald swirls his tongue hard over the tip of Jim's cock, hollows his cheeks and sinks down, lips a tight seal and tongue rubbing insistently against the underside.

Oswald looks peaceful. Like this is a form of fucking _meditation_ for him. Like there's nowhere he'd rather be.

Jim loves him.

And because it feels like the right course of action to take in his sex-hazed mind, Jim's hand moves and slides into Oswald's, and Oswald actually pauses, seemingly surprised for a moment before he laces his fingers tightly with Jim's, presses their palms flush together and that's _it_. It's like a circuit between them is closed and a rush of electricity lights him up from the inside out and he comes, moaning embarrassingly loud, toes curling and fingers gripping Oswald's hand too-tight. Oswald's ready for it, swallows him down and keeps him there in the cradle of his mouth until he's finished, sucking gently through the aftershocks and relishing the shakes he draws from Jim's body.

Finally he pulls back, licking his lips and resting his cheek back against Jim's thigh as he does Jim's pants back up again with his free hand. He looks distinctly pleased but there isn't a hint of smugness there; it's an odd sort of serenity painted on his features as Jim's chest heaves. "C'mere," Jim says once he catches his breath, patting his thigh. "C'mon up here."

Oswald climbs into Jim's lap, straddling his hips and settles there like he belongs. He does. Oswald presses close and Jim can feel him hard against his stomach. "Relax," Jim murmurs, flicking open Oswald's fly and slipping his hand past the open zipper, into Oswald's underwear. When he wraps fingers around his dick, Oswald whimpers, hips shoving against his hand. He's wet, clear liquid from his tip smeared down his length. Jim pumps him slow, steady, his grip tight and slick and Oswald fucks shakily, unsteadily up into the tunnel of his fingers.

"Relax," Jim repeats, and Oswald's face drops to rest at Jim's neck. He can feel Oswald's breath hot on his skin, colored with tiny, faint sounds. Almost frantically, Oswald's hand finds Jim's free one and Jim laces their fingers--he draws their hands up between their chests, keeps them trapped tightly there between them. The hand on Oswald's dick moves a little faster, his roughened thumb drawing through the wetness at his tip and rubbing the sensitive v-shape beneath the crown.

Oswald draws up tighter and Jim can feel him getting close. "Yeah, just like that," he praises, just loud enough for Oswald to hear. "Love you," he murmurs reverently, and at that Oswald cries out and comes over Jim's fingers. Jim works him through it, just like Oswald did for him; when Oswald's whimpers turn almost pained Jim stops, pulls his hand away and waits for Oswald to recover.

Those two words had made him come, had tipped him over. _Love you._ And Jim realizes _that's_ what Oswald needed so badly. To feel wanted, taken-care-of, cherished. To feel loved--to feel _safe_ when he'd probably been one half-step from danger's grasp all damn day long. He needed to feel loved and secure and he went to Jim for that feeling. He's hit with a wave of affection for Oswald and he wishes he could keep him safe and sound all the time. But he _can't._ And he'll never, ever be able to.

He shakes the thought away. It doesn't matter now. "Feel better?" he asks when Oswald picks his head up and rests his forehead against Jim's for a moment. The tension has left his body, he's liquid in Jim's lap.

He nods. "Much, thank you." He gives a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded.

Jim huffs a laugh. " _Any_ time, believe me." he says, and kisses Oswald softly.

Oswald smiles against his lips for a moment before he pulls back just enough to speak. "Take me to bed," he says. "Tell me how your day went."

"Yes sir," Jim says, and stands up, hands under Oswald's thighs so he can just pick him right up.

Oswald makes a surprised noise and then absolutely giggles, burying his face against Jim's neck again and wrapping his good leg around Jim's waist. "Onward!" he orders, pointing toward the bedroom, and Jim wonders how the fuck he got so stupidly, incredibly lucky.

"Well, _first_ of all," Jim starts, carrying him toward the bedroom, "there was a _mountain_ of papers to fill out, and then Ed wanted attention all day long for one reason or another, and _then_ I was dragged along on a stakeout so I waited in a car doing nothing for about four _hours_..."

**Author's Note:**

> title from Massive Attack's "Inertia Creeps" because honestly


End file.
